


Leviathan Depths

by Kelly_the_Ferret



Series: Leviathan Depths [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Fluff, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Multi, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-20 13:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21282656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelly_the_Ferret/pseuds/Kelly_the_Ferret
Summary: After stopping the Apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale want to define what having their own side means. But changes in Heaven are causing further ineffable events to unfold.When Gabriel arrives in London to stay, bringing confusion and mystery, our pair are asked to save Humanity again. Can they see that the world stays saved this time?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Gabriel/Raphael (Good Omens)
Series: Leviathan Depths [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538272
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	1. An Afternoon Picnic

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters 1 through 3 of a connected book.
> 
> I'm splitting the chapters into separate series entries to better manage tags & to give individual chapters separate ratings
> 
> For my wife, who hates fanfics

Fourteen days had passed since The Apocalypse that Wasn't. Aziraphale observed that Crowley was becoming progressively less dismissive during his daily visits to the book shop. 

Crowley routinely executed a plan to arrive between 11:20 am and 12:20 pm (he could not appear too deliberate or punctual about his visits) to deliver carefully worded invitations to lunch. His angel would never see him rehearsing his book shop entrances or speeches about 'just being in the neighborhood,' nor would he know that the extra trip Crowley sometimes took around the block was not due to a lack of parking. 

On that fourteenth day, Crowley strolled in with what he considered to be a well-oiled saunter. Shoulders thrown back, hands in pockets, left arm artfully slouched, black glasses perfectly positioned to hide his eyes while allowing him to peer over them when called for. He believed he could only look smoother wearing his Victorian stovepipe hat, but he knew better than to make so obvious of an effort. Instead, he was dressed in his favorite tailored jacket, drainpipe trousers, and snakeskin shoes, all in black. 

Walking into the shop was, as always, like stepping into a Thomas Kincade painting. Despite its cluttered interior with dark corners piled with books, the shop breathed warmth. Particles of dust rode the shafts of sunlight that filtered through the skylight high above the smooth stone floor. Crowley, sensing he had not been noticed yet, stepped from one aged floor rug to the next, until he stood in the center of the shop's circular two-tiered gallery. Above him, he spied his angel in an animated discussion about Dickens with two customers, his back to the railing. Aziraphale looked prim and proper in his usual pastel palette; Crowley had long since stopped questioning his friend's affinity for tartan.

Crowley took a moment to visually preen, arranging himself into a casual pose reminiscent of a fashion magazine advert. After smoothing his striking scarlet hair, he took a breath and drawled "Oh there you are! I thought I-"

His introduction was cut short; the moment that Aziraphale heard Crowley's voice, he whirled around, smiling. Aziraphale excused himself from his guests and began excitedly spouting a steady stream of updates for Crowley. "Oh, I had hoped you would drop by today! I finally tracked down a bottle of that Cabernet that you've been talking about since 1947, and it just arrived!"

Crowley tensed slightly at knowing that the two strangers were privy to their conversation, but he continued to listen as Aziraphale made his way down the stairs. The angel continued "I thought you might enjoy - that is, I thought a wine like this would be a perfect pairing for a picnic lunch!" Aziraphale breathlessly arrived in front of the demon, beaming up at him with hands clasped below his chin. 

Crowley was habitually glad for his dark glasses, and he once again expressed silent gratitude for the screen they provided between his hopeful eyes and the rest of the world. He forced a grimace, twisted on one heel, shrugged dramatically and lightly responded "Uhhhhh, yeah. Yeah, that'll do nicely. It's about lunch time, isn't it?" He hoped Aziraphale would not be able to sense the flood of emotions he was experiencing.

Aziraphale's eyes sparkled, sending another ripple of energy through the demon, and he nervously said, "Alright! I'll have the shop closed for lunch in ten minutes! Sit, sit!" The angel fluttered a hand at the couch near the front window where Crowley typically sprawled to wait. 

Crowley moved deliberately to the couch, which he inhabited with his usual lazy energy, or so he hoped. The demon worked to keep his breathing even while his brain went into overdrive. This was not going as planned. His controlled outing to Aziraphale's favorite bakery had been upended. 

The prior two weeks had been agony for Crowley. He had been certain that surviving the collective wrath of both Heaven and Hell would give the pair the courage to say they wanted to be more than best friends. So far, there had been lingering glances and there had been smiles exchanged after cloaked invitations, but nothing more. Crowley had plotted and devised, and set a plan into motion. He would bring his angel to a bakery café that Aziraphale frequented (though he would deny knowing this), where he would arrange to have a cake decorated with white wings available. He would make an 'angel food cake' joke, insist on buying the confection, and then enjoy watching Aziraphale's face light up. Once the cake had been demolished, he would watch for an opportunity to slip a hand into one of Aziraphale's, and then say...

"I'm famished!" Crowley was jolted from his thoughts, and the angel continued, "Shall we go? This wine should breathe while we set up the picnic. Will you drive, dear, while I give you directions?"

Aziraphale did not notice Crowley becoming more tense in response to the mysterious plans. His steps flowed lightly around the shop while he focused intently on gathering his light tan mid-length jacket and the items for the picnic.

"Of course! No trouble! I mean, I guess I can't go too fast if I'm waiting for turning instructions!" Crowley sputtered. But what about the cake? Crowley dug for a reason to stop by the bakery, but couldn't come up with a way to look spontaneous about buying the cake now. 

The angel and the demon loaded the picnic supplies into the Bentley's snug boot. Crowley swept the passenger door open for his angel, politely inviting him to sit and then casually folding the door back closed. The demon bit his lip and breathed stiffly while he forced himself to give up control of the afternoon completely.

Aziraphale stole glances at Crowley as often as he dared while directing him through the streets. His oldest friend had taken to driving like a fish to water, and he loved the way the demon looked completely at ease sitting behind the wheel. The angel felt as though he were floating when he directed Crowley to pull into the wooded park he'd selected.

The angel said very little as he led Crowley to the spot he had in mind. It was a grassy clearing just off of a wooded path with plenty of privacy. Just as he'd pictured, the sunlight danced through the trees, making ever-changing patterns on the grass. "This looks like the perfect spot!" He exclaimed.

Nearby squirrels were acutely aware of the tension that was resonating from the two park visitors; the atmosphere in the clearing took on a pre-thunderstorm electricity. The pair, however, seemed oblivious to one another's nerves as they set up their picnic.

Finally, they were seated, nearly shoulder to shoulder, with a collection of morsels between them. The angel and the demon paused to raise their wine stems, and Aziraphale looked deeply into his friend's opaque glasses. He took Crowley's hand, forcing the demon to adjust his lean, and he blushed as he said, "It took me 6,000 years to get ready to say this, but I need you to know - I would be lost without you. I... feel as though in some mad way, you complete me."

Crowley grew very still. His heart had been hammering from the moment he sat down, and when Aziraphale touched him, his pulse soared to a rate that would have killed a mortal being. He felt his cheeks burning, and he was not able to stop his forked tongue from flickering out briefly. 

The demon carefully set down his wine glass and stood up, still holding his angel's hand. Aziraphale rose gracefully, his cheeks a deep scarlet. Crowley gently embraced his angel, and when he sensed no hesitancy, he whirled Aziraphale around on his heels, tightly grasping the angel's body to his. With one arm around Aziraphale's waist and the other cradling magnificent blonde locks, he planted a passionate kiss on his angel's lips. Aziraphale clung to Crowley, returning the kiss with desperate energy. 

The sound of branches snapping announced someone's approach.

Both their eyes flew open as they became aware that they were no longer alone. Crowley nearly dropped his angel in a blind panic, and he kicked over his wine glass in the confusion caused by the pair steadying themselves. "Bugger," he growled.

Aziraphale's eyes widened in terror as a lavender figure stepped into the clearing. Crowley immediately put himself between the two angels as Gabriel made an unwelcome entrance.


	2. Dancing With Ineffability

"Ahem, well you two are _incredibly_ tough to track down. I - Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?" Gabriel looked earnestly from demon to angel, surveying the scene. "Oh, hey, let me get that," he continued, and with a snap of his fingers, the spilled wine glass was upright and unspilled.

Aziraphale stumbled backwards while Crowley's jaw went slack. 

"Look, it's been a weird couple of weeks; I think we should talk. Can we talk?" Gabriel stepped forward, and Crowley noticed a large brown bag that the archangel was carrying. Gabriel added, "Here, I brought this. I had a feeling you would be having lunch."

Crowley took the bag, noting that its shape and weight bore a suspicious resemblance to a dessert box. Or a severed head. He found he could speak, and exasperatedly asked "Hold on, how did you even find us?"

Gabriel shifted his gaze to the ground briefly, and responded, "That's part of what I wanted to talk about. Could we... sit?" With a wave of his hand, three plush lawn chairs appeared with a small table between them.

Aziraphale sought Crowley's eyes, and the demon, sliding his glasses down to meet the angel's gaze, issued a grave nod that was immediately returned. The pair sat.

Gabriel drew up a chair and began, "Things have been... changing recently. Some folks upstairs are starting to ask bigger questions. For me, I did some deep thinking after you both survived your trials." 

At this, the pair exchanged an almost imperceptible agreement to Not Talk With Gabriel About That Day.

The archangel took a deep breath and continued, "At first, I was angry. I had a mission, and I'd been forced to fail it. But then, I was reminded that the Almighty had chosen this outcome. She had written a plan, and then added Herself reversing the plan into the plan itself." Gabriel paused, squinting, while the demon and principality both shook their heads in anxious confusion.

"I started to realize how out of touch I'd become, blindly following old rules. I mean, why was I even so mad at you guys? In the end, I carried out my job as it was _really_ intended, and you two just bumbled around following some kind of divine string of happenstance." Gabriel was suddenly holding a tumbler of whiskey over ice, which he swirled slowly. "I mean, Aziraphale, I literally told you to hurry up and die." 

Aziraphale's eyebrows shot up, and he leaned back uncomfortably. He nervously looked toward Crowley who vaguely nodded and shrugged. Aziraphale drummed his fingertips together, and with a tight smile said "Well, as you can see, I'm simply in no hurry at all."

Gabriel smirked and pointed towards the principality. "I started to realize I was partly angry because I was jealous." Aziraphale looked down while Crowley shifted awkwardly in his seat.

Gabriel sighed. "I was jealous that a no-ranking apparent upstart had been able to follow the plan better than I had. After I spent millennia studying the plan and preparing to follow the plan. I just... I took some long walks, and I did a lot of thinking, and I decided to submit paperwork for a sabbatical. I mean, if the things we do are all written into the plan, then why not? So, I came out here with a peace offering." Crowley removed the package from the brown paper bag and opened it, revealing the cake that he had intended for his angel.

"I've been keeping tabs on you two since you seem to know something about living spontaneously, and when this chuckle-head didn't arrive for his cake, I thought I'd better track you down. If the Almighty approves of... whatever the two of you are, then the least I can do is make amends." Gabriel sat back in his chair.

Aziraphale's face underwent a series of emotional shifts from soft amazement at the beautiful cake, to joyful realization that it had been designed by Crowley, to tears of relief all within five seconds. The demon melted inside, but shifted his focus back to Gabriel. He slid his glasses down, and leaned in, his golden reptile eyes studying the archangel.

Gabriel rubbed his hands together and stood up. "Well, I'll leave you two alone; don't want to overstay my welcome. I plan to hang around London for a little bit, so I'll see you two around."

Crowley sat silently with his arms crossed while Aziraphale leaped up and started calling rapidly to the archangel, who was striding away, "Oh goodness! Thank you! Thank you for coming! Do stop 'round!"

The angel began to pace at the edge of the clearing, nervously trying to process everything that had just happened. Crowley took off his glasses and reached for his wine. He slowly took a sip, and said "Well, angel, what do you think?"

Aziraphale slowed his pacing and walked up to his demon. "It would seem that we're well and truly free from my side. Will you dance with me?" With a snap, an antique gramophone appeared on the table, playing slow piano music.

Crowley took his angel's hand, and pointed out, "I thought angels don't dance."

Aziraphale took a deep breath, beamed, and softly said, "Then teach me," and the pair swayed together at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, criticisms welcome!


	3. Cloaks, Daggers, and Coffee

The following months saw new routines and old habits. Crowley moved into the flat above the bookshop with Aziraphale. He spent his afternoons basking on his favorite couch when the sun came in through the shop's windows. He occasionally went out to do some minor tempting or set a profitable scheme into motion. Crowley still made a point of sharing a bottle of wine with his angel each day, although it didn't have to be at lunch time. Aziraphale continued to tend his shop, doing his utmost to safeguard his books from interested buyers.

One of Crowley's side projects became out-tracking his trackers. Having been so easily monitored by Gabriel, the demon decided that he needed more eyes watching his back. Besides, now that he and his angel were officially on their own side, they would want more pawns on the board. Crowley expanded his network of contacts to keep him informed about certain events and people, one of whom was Gabriel. The demon still couldn't understand what had taken place at the park, and he was extremely curious as to why the archangel seemed to be staying in London for months on end. His surveillance revealed nothing of interest, which only made him more suspicious. Crowley decided to arrange a meeting. He sent notice to the hotel where Gabriel was staying, and the archangel agreed to coffee. 

Aziraphale noticed nothing amiss when Crowley rolled off his couch and sauntered out the door one afternoon. The angel hummed to himself, completely absorbed in the manuscript in front of him, calling out a vague, "Tatty bye, dear," when he heard the door jingle.

Crowley never arrived on time when he called a meeting; his strategy was to arrive one hour early to observe. He grabbed a newspaper while he strolled to help him appear completely disinterested in anything that was said. So, of course, when Crowley arrived at the appointed coffee shop, Gabriel was already seated comfortably and browsing the Science section. "Ah, Anthony! What will you be having?" the archangel called out.

The corners of Crowley's mouth turned involuntarily downwards, and he stifled a grumble. "Coffee, black, no sugar," he growled and sauntered over to the table.

"Can you believe they actually don't want vaccines anymore? You'd really think that 6,000 years of death by illness would teach them to appreciate the miracles of modern medicine." Gabriel chuckled and continued, "They show off how faithful they are by refusing the biggest rescue boat we ever sent. Well, guess their kids get to meet the Almighty first!" Gabriel folded his paper and motioned for the demon to sit.

Crowley sat down resolutely, flopped his paper on the table as well, and leaned on one elbow. He nodded at the barista, accepting the coffee he ordered, and fixed the gaze of his sunglasses on Gabriel. "What did you mean when you said you were jealous?"

Gabriel leaned back in his chair and chuckled again. "That's what this is about? What's it been, three months?"

Crowley waved a hand in the air as though he were dismissing a bad idea. He made a throaty sound and asked pointedly, "Why are you still here?"

Gabriel sat for a moment with a calculating expression. "What are you really asking, demon?"

Crowley maintained his stare, silently. With an even tone he finally asked "Why did you have me followed?" 

Gabriel cocked his head to the side. "Look, is this about the fall? Yes, things were different before that happened. You were different then. But I made sure to strike the name of Raphael from every record. And then when you turned up as a demon...." The archangel stopped, apparently remembering something unpleasant.

"The last thing I recall when I was falling was hearing you say I was getting what I deserved. Why are you here?" Crowley pressed.

"To see how you're getting on," the archangel stated simply, taking a sip of his coffee.

"How I'm getting - I'm getting on fine, thank you!" Crowley retorted. "You cut me off! Now, suddenly, you see me with someone else, and you can't stand it!"

Gabriel rolled his eyes and said "I could not care less about that. I mean, it's weird, but whatever." He thought for a moment and continued, "Well what about you keeping an eye on me? Was I not supposed to figure out who those spies were reporting to?" 

"I'm just protecting my interests!" The demon said indignantly. "After countless years of disdain, you show up with a 'peace offering,' and I'm meant to believe things are fine?" Crowley sneered and glared over the tops of his lenses. He added, "We were sworn for eternity, but you certainly wasted no time tossing me away over _philosophical differences_!"

Gabriel shook his head with a frown and responded with "Look, that was then, before... I mean," he leaned in and awkwardly hissed, "your demon form is a man!" The archangel grimaced and shuddered.

Crowley threw a hand in the air and sarcastically snarled, "I don't know what else you would expect; I moved to a rather rough neighborhood." He stood to leave.

The nearest onlookers were unable to hear what was being said at the back table, but they saw that the mis-matched couple might not outlast their quarrel.

Gabriel bowed his head slightly and placed a palm on the table. He spoke slowly and said, "Hey, I - I never wanted you to suffer. You're right, I was furious with you. You couldn't follow the rules. You couldn't even listen to me when I tried to save you from yourself. But after you fell, I hated seeing you in pain. The angel I used to know is gone but...you seem to have found someone who is good for you."

Crowley's stance relaxed slightly as he stood in place, listening.

The archangel continued, "As demons go, you're kind of the worst. Like, completely ineffective. It's kinda nice to see you fight your nature."

Crowley simply shrugged and said, "Well, there never was any accounting for your taste," as he dusted off his jacket sleeve.

Gabriel chuckled and raised an eyebrow. "And yours? Like, really? Aziraphale? The guy could spend a whole day enamored with a lamp shade."

Crowley's mouth almost flashed into a grin which he quickly stifled into a grimace. "Well, he's the only angel I've ever met with any fashion sense."

The archangel shook his head with a bemused look and said, "Take care of yourself, Crowley."

"Fuck off."


End file.
